In the fields near us, it is butterfly season. A time when metamorphosis occurs right before our wonder filled eyes.
Big beauties like this one, soft buttery yellows, and elusive little white ones fill the skies on our daily walk. Right about now, I’m longing to be the butterfly, complete from my transformation and ready to explore the world. But I can tell that I need to have some extra grace for myself.
I’m not done healing, not done growing, and I don’t know that I ever will be. Because as much as we like to imagine the rough stuff we go through is the breaking down of a caterpillar in preparation for the butterfly, we aren’t linear beings.
I can’t expect myself to transform overnight. I can’t expect myself not to repeat mistakes or to have to relearn the same lessons over again. Humans live in cycles. The cycle of a butterfly is practically a blink in comparison to the months and years that make up our lives. We have more opportunities to learn and to grow.
We don’t get a defining moment when we are fully grown. We get to keep trying again and again. And hopefully we are gradually becoming the kind of person we want to be.
I would argue, that the slow metamorphosis isn’t any less miraculous.